


If I Never Knew You

by Therapeutic_Steter



Series: Prompt Fics [14]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Scarred Peter, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stiles Leaves the Pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-25 21:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12541728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Therapeutic_Steter/pseuds/Therapeutic_Steter
Summary: anonymous asked: Stiles leaves the pack and gets his own life under controll. Has only contact with his dad anymore. He is happy. One day he meets Peter Hale, he knew Derek back than, but doesn't connect the dots.





	If I Never Knew You

After one too many close calls, Stiles was done. One too many ignored calls for help, one too many injuries that could’ve been avoided, one too many times being blown off…He was just through.

“Take care of yourself,” John murmured, hugging his son close. “I’m proud of you.”

Stiles refused to feel bad for leaving. He would miss his dad, but it’d been months since he’d talked to any of the so-called pack, not that any of them seemed to have noticed. He wondered how long it would be before someone would realize he was gone.

“Love you, dad,” Stiles said, hugging the man back just as fiercely.

“Love you too, son.”

“Let me know once you get settled in.”

“Will do.”

Stiles sniffled, pulling away to wipe his face roughly before giving his dad a cheeky grin. “New York here I come!”

John chuckled lightly, reaching out to ruffle his son’s hair. “I hope Columbia knows what they signed up for, offering you a full scholarship.”

Stiles grinned proudly. It had been his goal to make his transition into college as easy for his dad as possible, especially financially. He didn’t know how he’d pulled the full scholarship offer while also running from his life on a weekly basis, but he’d snatched it the moment it’d been placed on the table.

The taxi that was taking him to airport honked the horn and Stiles waved in acknowledgment, scooping up his two bags.

It was time for a new chapter.

…

New York was amazing!

‘The City that Never Sleeps’ was the perfect moniker for sure and it fit Stiles’ lifestyle perfectly. Did he want to go on a research binge at two in the morning? The library was still open, and his favorite coffee shop was too! Was he bored and he wanted to find something new to fit his interests? There were lots of museums and new art shows on a weekly basis. Did he not want to get dressed but still needed food? There were thirteen restaurants that delivered all within two blocks of his apartment and that weren’t that expensive.

It was heaven.

And sure, he missed his dad, but they talked weekly, and Stiles had really needed to get out of that hellmouth.

Stiles hummed to himself, pleased that his favorite coffee shop had started selling pumpkin spice lattes that put Starbucks to shame and that he had just purchased said latte. He held the warm cup close, blowing away the steam as he moved for the door.

Stiles stumbled as another person pushed into the door he was just about to exit, carefully getting a better hold on his latte before shooting a glare up at the man who’d so rudely rushed in. Stiles’ eyes widened without his permission, taking in the scars marring the right side of the man’s face. Icy blue eyes glared down at him and Stiles shrunk.

“Sorry,” the man muttered, at least acknowledging that he’d been the one in the wrong.

“It’s cool, man,” Stiles responded. “Didn’t spill.” He half-raised his latte in explanation. The man glanced at it before nodding, moving around Stiles’ form and going to place his order. Stiles couldn’t help but watch his back, the way his shoulders curled up, the way his head stayed ducked down. Hiding the scars, Stiles thought, and his stomach twisted in sympathy. It wasn’t his business though and he didn’t want to make the man feel any more self-conscience than he probably already was so he just slipped out the door.

…

Stiles had lucked out and gotten the favored table at the café that had an outlet under it and was downing coffee after coffee. Luckily he was friends with the baristas behind the counter, so they kept him supplied and let him just settle his bill at the end instead of having to get up and risk losing his seat every time he needed another drink.

“Do you mind if I sit here?”

Stiles looked up at the voice, surprised to see the same man from before. Stiles eyes were drawn to the scars, but he resisted, smiling welcomingly instead and moving to clear his things off the other side of the table. The place was always packed, as usual; it wasn’t abnormal or a hassle to share.

“Sure, go ahead,” Stiles gestured and the man set his laptop down opposite him and started typing away.

The man was quiet, reserved, and Stiles tried to respect that. He really did.

“Dammit,” Stiles muttered, looking at his essay and begging the words to come. He had to turn in fifteen pages by this Friday and, so far, it was Wednesday and he barely had six. “I don’t suppose you have any thoughts about nineteenth century fashion?” Stiles asked, looking over his laptop at his table partner.

The man paused, glancing up with his blue, blue eyes that Stiles remembered from that first run in. “In what manner?” the man finally asked, like he had to be sure Stiles was talking to him.

Stiles sighed, waving his hands wildly. “I’ve got a paper due by Friday on the War of 1812 and I’m blanking.”

The man blinked once, seemingly confused. “But you want an opinion on nineteenth century fashion?” He clarified.

Stiles started waving his hand to show his thinking process. “You know, you wear armor to war and the armor of a country is heavily influenced by the limitations of the cloth industries at the time, which would also reflect in the fashion choices. Like what types of cloth or dyes were available, how well were countries producing metals, what were the seaming practices back them to make stitches sturdy. Fashion.”

The man chuckled before stopping and looking surprised that he’d do so. “I see,” he answered, nodding. “Of course.”

“So,” Stiles asked, raising a brow. “Thoughts?”

The man grinned, delightedly. It stretched his scars tightly, but Stiles was focused on the brightness of his eyes.

…

Peter was brilliant.

The man was almost a walking encyclopedia, always having odd factoids to share. And he followed Stiles’ ramblings easily, or if he didn’t he faked it well. Stiles was enamored from the moment Peter had started talking about Thomas Jefferson and Stiles had made a comment about Godzilla, at which Peter replied “Well, I suppose she did utilize Jefferson’s method of non-failure; she just found a way how not take over New York.”

“Peter!” Stiles greeted as he entered the café to find the man sitting at what he now considered their table. The man glanced up, smiling warmly, and Stiles’ heart fluttered. “The new Marvel movie is coming out this weekend! We have to go!” Stiles spoke excitably, nearly vibrating in his seat.

Peter sighed like it was a hardship, but the man’s lips were still quirked in a smile. “Fine, fine,” he grumbled. Stiles kicked him lightly under the table and the man caught his foot with his own, grinning to himself and sipping at his coffee nonchalantly.

Stiles was so gone on him.

…

Stiles was almost shaking in excitement. It’d gotten so bad that Peter had wrapped his arm around Stiles’ shoulders in an attempt to calm him down. Sure, Stiles was now still, but that was more because he was trying not to self-combust from the embarrassment and utter heart-flipping joy of having Peter comfortable enough to sling his arm around him and pull him close. He tried to subtly snuggle closer to the man’s side, pressing his cold nose to the man’s bare neck and nuzzling gently.

Peter hummed to himself, seemingly pleased, and pressed a kiss to Stiles’ temple before stepping forward to the window to buy their tickets. Stiles captured his free hand, playing with his fingers. He was instantly at attention though when Peter tensed, fingers just barely twitching within Stiles’ grasp. Stiles looked up to see the woman at the ticket counter with a disgusted sneer on her face as she gingerly took Peter’s card for the payment, like she was scared to catch something off him. Stiles felt fury morphing his visage and was prepared to say something nasty if Peter hadn’t squeezed his hand once, accepting their tickets and his card back before pulling Stiles to the entrance of the theater. Peter walked stiffly, shoulders high, probably without conscious thought as he tried to hide his right side. Stiles intertwined their fingers and clutched Peter’s hand solidly, walking close and throwing a nasty glare over Peter’s shoulder. The ticket lady, who’d been watching them with her revolted look, startled at his look and hastily turned away, face blushing darkly. Stiles felt like baring his teeth like a wolf but decided to push the anger away, focusing on Peter’s warm presence beside him.

They pushed past the experience, continuing with the date. Stiles absolutely loved the movie and it had even drug out a few chuckles from Peter. Stiles shamelessly made out with him during the credits as they waited for the final scene. Peter held him close as they left and Stiles slipped his hand in Peter’s back pocket, winking flirtatiously.

When Peter dropped him off at his apartment, the man walked him to his door and kissed him heatedly. Stiles moaned, curling his arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

“You know, you could always come in,” Stiles murmured into his ear, mouthing at the man’s jaw wetly.

Peter hummed, hands squeezing against Stiles’ hips, and he gave an open-mouthed kiss to Stiles’ neck, teeth lightly scratching against his skin. “Next time,” he promised, before pulling away.

Stiles pouted but accepted, smiling and cupping Peter’s face with both his hands before giving him a silly eskimo kiss. The scars on his right side were tight, warm, under Stiles’ touch, but Stiles had quit registering them as anything abnormal quite some time ago. It was just Peter, the man he was absolutely falling in love with, and Stiles accepted him scars and all.

Peter reached up to grab Stiles’ hand that was covering the right side of his face, pulling it forward to press a kiss to the back of Stiles’ hand. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promised, warm breath wafting against Stiles’ skin.

“You better,” Stiles teased, stepping closer for one last kiss.

“Promise,” Peter said against Stiles’ lips, accepting the kiss. Finally, Stiles pulled away, reluctantly going inside.

…

Stiles was curled up in Peter’s apartment, cuddling into his side as they watched a rom-com that Peter would never admit was his guilty pleasure, when his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, surprised when he saw Derek’s name on the screen.

“Derek,” Stiles greeted. “Hey, man! How’s it going?”

“Stiles.” Derek sounded a bit better, more relaxed. “Your dad said you left?”

Peter tensed at his side, but Stiles wasn’t paying attention, pulling away to talk to the wolf he hadn’t heard from since he and his sister had fled the town. With good reason, Stiles thought.

“Yep,” Stiles nodded even though he didn’t need to. “Haven’t been back. Kind of surprised you came back though. I figured you were gone for good.”

“I…thought about it,” Derek admitted. “I’m going to New York first though. There’s…something I need to check on that I kind of dropped whenever I heard about…well, you know.”

Stiles frowned. “Well hey, if you don’t have anywhere to stay, you can stay at mine.”

“Thank you,” Derek said carefully.

“Please, don’t return on my behalf, nephew.”

Stiles tensed when Peter spoke, leaning closer into the phone. His voice was cold, a lazy draw that brought ice up Stiles’ spine, and Stiles looked at him with wide, surprised eyes as Peter glared at his phone.

“Peter,” Derek breathed through the phone and Stiles wondered what he’d just gotten himself in the middle of. “I didn’t mean to abandon you,” Derek said, voice uncertain. “I just wanted to check on Laura; she was gone for so long. And then she…and everything that happened…I never meant to just not come back.”

“It’s been three years,” Peter growled, like honest to god growled. Stiles eyes widened. Holy shit, he was dating a werewolf.

“I’m sorry,” Derek murmured. His voice was more nervous than anything Stiles had heard and he had the distinctive thought that he should not be hearing it now. He wondered if he should slip out, give them some privacy.

Peter sighed, looking exhausted. Derek made a plaintive whimper over the phone and Peter’s lip curled even as Stiles watched his frame tremble.

“Hey,” Stiles breathed quietly, gently coaxing Peter to turn towards him. The man buried his face against Stiles’ neck, exhaling against his skin. Stiles looked at his phone, conflicted.

“Just…call me later. Please,” Derek said before hanging up. Stiles wondered if he meant him or Peter.

“So.” Stiles said, still holding Peter close.

“How do you know my nephew?” Peter asked, pulling away and wiping at his face quickly and brutishly. Stiles pointed looked away when he saw the wetness around his eyes and waited for him to collect himself.

“I used to live in Beacon Hills. One of my old friends was bitten by the same rogue Alpha that got…Laura.” Stiles nearly whispered her name, unsure of what Peter’s reaction would be. The man looked like he was braced for the emotional upheaval though and didn’t outwardly react to his niece’s name. “I got involved in a lot of the mess that followed. That place is a hellmouth, I swear.” He shrugged, looking away. “Everyone moved on without me and I couldn’t stand the place anymore. So I left.”

“If you know Derek and lived in Beacon Hills, I’m sure then that you know what happened,” Peter said, looking down at his scarred hand. “Laura had me moved to New York once I was stable. When she left a few years ago, Derek stayed, but there was distress coming across the bond. I could move at that time, albeit slowly and not always in the way I wanted, but Derek was scared and said he needed to check on Laura, that he’d be back in two weeks. I felt my bond to Laura snap only two days later after Derek left. He called to let me know what happened, that he was hunting the Alpha who killed her, and every few months I’d get a text saying something new had popped up and he was extending his stay. It’s been over six months since I’ve heard from him. The last thing he said was Cora was alive and they were going…somewhere. He never answered any of my questions.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said. “It really was shitty for basically my last two years of high school. All of us barely survived and every time we’d try to breathe some new Big Bad would pop up. The death count in Beacon Hills has gone way up in the past three years, though I think it finally started to ease a little after we took care of the Darach and the Alpha Pack. That was when Derek and Cora left for South America, I think.”

Peter shook his head, holding it with one hand and looking exhausted. Stiles reached out, brushing down his arm before taking his free hand. “I’m sorry that you’ve been here all alone all this time.” Peter turned his wrist over, catching Stiles’ and bringing to his lips. He pressed the back of Stiles’ hand to his lips, just holding it there.

Stiles moved closer, brushing Peter’s hair back with his free hand. He sat up in the wolf’s lap, curling around him and letting Peter hide his face under his chin.

“Will you stay?” Peter asked against his skin. His voice was quiet, timid, more vulnerable than anything Stiles had ever heard from the man before.

“Of course,” Stiles promised, fiercely and without hesitation. “As long as you want me to.”

“Forever?” Peter murmured.

Stiles pressed a kiss to his forehead, chaste and protective. “Forever and a day.”

**Author's Note:**

> Send me a prompt on [tumblr](https://therapeutic-steter.tumblr.com/)!


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